Chapter Fourteen
Buffy pretended to read a book while Giles made tea. The words on the page blurred together. She’d glimpsed something about Slayers and their Watchers, but that was all she got out of it so far. Giles had silently handed the book to her as a way of saying good morning and giving her a gentle reminder that she’d told him she needed him. Any other morning, she would have refused and said it was away too early to start with research mode. But she wanted to make him happy, so she acquiesced.
In reality, she was too caught up in trying to decide what to do about Spike to comprehend the first paragraph of the book. What was her relationship with Spike now? How would she tell her friends? Did they even need to know? Could he be her dirty little secret?
Spike rounded the corner with his hand on the back of his neck as if he was deep in thought. She wondered if his thoughts were similar to her thoughts, but this was short-lived because he stopped short on seeing her.
“Morning, pet.” His words were carefully neutral. “Lights came back on, I see.”
“I woke up,” she said to explain why she’d left his side without commenting on his acknowledgment of the electricity. “And you were peaceful.” At some point in the middle of the night, she’d woken with back pain from sleeping in the tub. So much for comfy. Spike, of course, roused with her, and she’d led him back to Giles’s guest room, pulled him down on the bed, and silently requested spooning. When he was curled around her, she was asleep again in moments.
“Ah.” He was still with the neutral.
“The storm is better,” she managed. “Less wind, less rain. I think it’s going away.”
“Onward to other parts of the country,” he noted without really making eye contact. Damn it, she still couldn’t read him.
She couldn’t take the awkward any longer. “You. . . thank you for last night.”
“Don’t rightly know that I’ve ever had anyone thank me for – ” Spike stopped himself and lounged on the end of Giles’s sofa. Spike felt like he was a million miles away from her and Buffy didn’t like it one bit.
“For all of it,” she clarified, stumbling onward without much reassurance. “From the time you came to my house before the storm.” She hesitated. Her heart ached with hurt even if she wasn’t sure what to do with him now that they’d had sex. Made love. What did it even mean? “Through last night. You were – ”
“Convenient,” he said with a trace of his usual bite.
“No,” she insisted. “Wonderful. You were wonderful, and you felt – ”
Giles breezed into the room from the kitchen. “Ah, Spike, you’re up. Good.” Giles slid a tray on the coffee table and sat on the edge of the chair across from Buffy and Spike.
Buffy’s mouth fell open a little. Giles had set up three cups – one for Spike, too.
“The usual?” Giles asked Spike as he arranged the cups. Buffy narrowed her eyes a little. Spike wasn’t the only one being carefully dispassionate.
“Sure.” Spike lifted an eyebrow at Buffy’s expression. “Don’t know why you’re surprised. What do you expect two British gents to do when they’re stuck together?”
Giles didn’t even balk. “It’s true.”
Buffy was floored at how much of a bond Giles and Spike had, and she hadn’t even known it. Maybe tea was how Spike convinced him to let him out of the bathtub chains.
She cleared her throat, finding a bit of anxiety there. “That makes sense actually.” Her heart skipped a beat as she made a quick decision – a decision she felt confident in. “Giles, I need to tell you something about Spike and me.”
Giles passed her a cup of tea fixed the way he knew she liked it. “Do you think I don’t know what happens in my own flat just because I was having a temporary mid-life crisis?”
“Oh.” Buffy accepted the tea, half-expecting Giles to take off his glasses and ask if he could be blind again. She peeked over at Spike, who was watching her with rapt attention, his blue eyes filled with emotions that were now anything but neutral. She reached her healing broken hand out to him, her fingers crossing the sea of sofa to touch his. “Spike and I are together together. As in. . . together.”
“We are, are we?” Spike asked, running his thumb over hers, hinting at a promise of a leisurely stroll through sensation. Hopefully soon.
“We are,” she assured Spike, not even worried about Giles’s response. “And I want more than just that.” She was referring to the sex and hoped he got it. “I want conversations. A-and dates. And more spicy Spam tacos and maybe mini pizzas?” It was more than what anyone had given her before.
“I can do that,” Spike assured her, taking his tea from Giles.
“As long as Spike stays in his lane, helping and so forth, I want to know as little as possible about whatever it is you’re. . . talking about,” Giles said as he slid back in his chair, closed his eyes, and then savored a sip of tea.
“Can do,” Buffy said, smiling into her cup before exchanging a quiet smile with Spike. She’d found her equal – someone who cared about her for her. The possibilities were breathtaking. And all it took was being trapped at home by a mystical hurricane.
11-24-20
11:28 PM
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Chapter End Notes:
Thank you so much for joining me on this (hopefully) fun little segue into an alternate season five. :o) *hugs* Whether you are celebrating Thanksgiving or not, stay safe and well!